


Loss

by QueenCarol



Series: Fighting For The Moments [10]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Author is still blaming Daryl, Carzekiel, F/M, Grieving, Jealous ezekiel, caryl friendship, grieving Ezekiel, grieving carol, henry death aftermath, spoilers for last two episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCarol/pseuds/QueenCarol
Summary: Ezekiel and Carol have lost Henry, this is their possible grieving process.NOTE: While I don’t go I to details of the actual deaths, there are details about the aftermath of it, including a whole scene that takes place in the barn.  Yes, that barn.  Heavy spoilers for 9x15.  Some scenes included stem from trailer and sneak of 9x16





	Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Carol Peletier, Sophia Peletier, King Ezekiel, Henry, Jerry, Shiva, and any other recognizable character or plot of The Walking Dead belong to AMC Network and Skybound Entertainment, Image Comics and Robert Kirkman.
> 
> In no way is the author claiming ownage of any of the characters nor is there any economic/monetary gain at any time. The author is extremely respectful of the original creators and is willing to take down this work of fiction if requested.
> 
> No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Original characters are the property of the author.

They are broken.

Just like the wall in their bedroom, just like the pipes in their home.

The death of their child has broken their spirits. Their sweet Henry has been taken from them and neither knows how to process the pain. They wrap themselves in a cloak of loss neither seem to want to let go of or are incapable of letting go.

He feels like he’s losing himself. He feels like he’s losing her. 

He can’t lose her.

——

When he’d learns of his disappearance he frantically search for Henry all the while praying that nothing bad has found his son. When morning comes and there is no sight of him, he jumps on a horse, ready to find him no matter what. No sooner have the gates opened that he sees Michonne, Daryl, Yumiko and Sadiqq walk in. Behind them is Carol, holding tightly to her jacket, her eyes downcast.

He makes his way to her, his feet stumbling. His hands barely rises to press against her arms when Carol is already tightening her arms around herself. Her soft whimper is all he needs to hear.

Their son is dead.

Desperation overcomes him.  He can feel his eyes widen, feels like he can barely breathe.  His knees almost buckle as he stumbles backwards.  He’s lost Benjamin, he’s lost Shiva and now he’s lost Henry. Carol whimpers again and suddenly all he can think about is holding her, grieving with her for their son.

Instead of invading her space he simply opens his arms as he takes in deep gulps of air, giving her the chance to decide if she wants to be embraced. Just when he is sure that she will turn away, Carol turns to look at him, her eyes full of tears, her chin quivering.  

“He... Henry.” Her voice cracks as she says their son’s name. She falls into his embrace afterwards, burying herself against him. He holds her, for the longest time, tears steaming down both of their cheeks.

The loss they are experiencing will be eternal. Their son is gone. The young boy they both watch flourish, whose light was brightest than all of Kingdom together has been extinguished.

They stand for what feels like an eternity, simply holding each other, breathing each other.  

It is Daryl who finally approaches them. “Ah can help.” He says, already opening his arms for Carol. He doesn’t want to let go of his wife but he understands the unique bond that threads them together and if Carol needs his presence he is willing to set aside his feelings for the hunter for her well being. Yet Carol doesn’t want to go to him, instead pressing against Ezekiel even further, whimpering.  

He raises a hand to stop Daryl, then sends him a look. He’s angry; angry at the hunter, angry at the world, angry at having lost his son. The last thing he wants is the hunter to be near. They trusted him with Henry, trusted him with their son’s well being, and now his son is dead. Is he being unfair?  Does he care if he is?  

He needs to focus on Carol.

He cradles her against him then bends his knees and presses a hand under her knees to hoist her to him. She feels so small, too small as he cradles her against his chest. Where is his Queen Warrior?

“I got you.” He whispers to her.

He takes her to their bedroom, helps her sit on the bed. She’s silent as tears stream down her face. He helps her out of her boots, out of her coat and takes off her leather armor. Gently he guides her to lay down on the bed.  

He doesn’t bother going all the way around, instead climbs over her, faces her, and embraces her as best as he can.

They remain silent. Both are too shocked to speak. He can only look into her eyes as best as he can with the tears in his own.

“Our son...” he starts but stops for he doesn’t know what to say.

“Is dead.” She whispers, her voice slowly tapering off into silence.

A sob escapes his throat and he shuts his eyes tightly. He wants to rage. He wants to cry. He wants to scream his pain. He’s only known this pain when he lost Benjamin and Shiva and he never thought he’d feel it again. Back then he’d only been able to survive because of Henry and Carol. Now his son is gone and his wife is as broken as he is.

A trembling hand presses against his cheek. Carol’s thumb caresses his stumble, wipes away a couple of tears. He finds himself opening his eyes begging her to tell him.  

“She... she killed him.” Carol continues. He can hear every ounce of pain in her voice, he can hear the rage swelling within her. “She...”

“We will avenge him.”  

Her chin quivers yet again. There’s an almost imperceptible nod but he catches it. “We have.. to find... him.”

That takes him by surprise. He knows she can see it in his eyes and her eyes flood once more with tears.  

“How?”  

Carol knows he’s not asking how they will find him. It doesn’t matter how they search, he knows neither will stop searching until he’s home. His words tell her, beg her, to share with him her grief. He needs to know how their son died, he needs to share her pain, help her breathe a little easier.

“She... she be... beheaded him.” She lets out in a breath, her words only loud enough for him to hear. “He... he turned... on the pike.”

Ezekiel tightens his jaw, his breathing gets stronger, there’s nothing else he can do or he will explode into tiny million pieces. He controls his anger or he will get up from this bed and find Lydia and beg her to give them her mother’s location. He forces himself to remain in bed or he will jump in that very moment and search for the woman who has taken his son’s life.

Carol presses her forehead against his, her fingers curling around his jaw. “We have to... bring him home.”  She whispers as they both break down.

They will.

———

They don’t have to look too long before they have a general idea of where to find the rest of Henry’s body. Siddiq gives them the needed information when they visit him, information he was able to get when they had taken him. A barn not long from where Carol and the rest found him, not long from where their son was piked.

Carol breaks down in his arms afterwards and he doesn’t have to ask why. Sophia, her daughter, their daughter, the daughter he claimed as his own the night Carol recounted their life together and told him about the sorry excuse of a father the young girl had had, found her end in a barn. 

When they finally go to their room to get ready for their trek, they are silent. Neither say a word as they get ready, he has no doubt that Carol wants to talk about much as he does, but he physically can’t form words. It is only once they are about to leave that he asks her to stop and listen to him. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

She shakes her head right away and tries to move towards the door. “Carol you don’t have to. I know, I understand that Sophia...”

“I need to.” She whimpers, her eyes filled once again with tears.  She takes a deep breath, then angrily brushes away the tears that have escaped. “I wasn’t... I wasn’t there for our little girl. I need to be there for our son.”

He doesn’t stop her afterwards. He follows her to the wagon that has been prepared for their journey. A somber looking Jerry holds the reigns to the horses. Already he can see people gathering, questions in their eyes and hearts.  

“The Queen and I will depart to...” the words are hard to come by. He wants to let the mask drop, to let the King simmer and die. He remembers Carol’s tear streaked face from so long ago, reminding him that he needs to be the King not for himself but for his people. They need him so he must keep the character for their sake.  They too have lost their prince. “We shall deliver our Prince to his rightful home, to Kingdom.”

He climbs on the wagon and sits. Jerry hands him the reigns, taking a moment to squeeze Ezekiel’s arm in a sign of solidarity. Ezekiel gives him a silent nod, then motions the horses to advance.  

The ride is silent, with Carol only breaking the silence to tell him where to turn. He can feel the pain moving from her in waves, breaking tide against his own, crashing and morphing and sending them further apart.

“It’s alright to hate me.” Carol interrupts the silence once more with words that shock his very core.  

“Why would I hate you?” He asks, his mask fully dropped and left behind at the gates of The Kingdom. This is just Ezekiel, a broken Ezekiel but her husband nonetheless.

Carol turns to look at him, her eyes as pained as they were the first time he met her. “Why wouldn’t you? I convinced you to let Henry go to Kingdom.”

He remains quiet as they make another turn. Carol motions for him to stop and he does, pulling at the reigns. She’s off the wagon before he can answer her question.  

It baffles him that Carol thinks he blames her; it wasn’t her fault for wanting what was best for her son, for wanting him to grow and experience a life that shouldn’t have happened at all. He needs to tell her this before the thought festers in her heart and drives her away.

“I don’t blame you. I am not mad at you.”

“You should be.” She whispers as she turns towards the small forest in which they’d found Siddiq.  

“Do you blame me? Are you mad at me, Carol?”

She doesn’t turn to look at him. There’s pain in every fiber of her being, he can see it as clean as day as she thinks of his question. He wouldn’t fault her, not if she blamed him. She had left Henry with him the last time she saw their son. He had been safe at The Kingdom. He had been unable to look after him, wrapped up in the happiness of the fair. He failed Henry and he failed Carol.

He’s about to tell her that he understands, when she finally replies. “No. I don’t, I’m not.”

“And neither am I.” He promises, reaching for her hand. Carol holds tightly to his hand as they follow Siddiq’s groggy instructions. He had been knocked out for some of the trek but Carol is able to track that which he hadn’t seen by following the drops of blood.

They face the barn together knowing that carnage lies within its walls. He doesn’t know how he will react to seeing what’s inside. Nor does he know how Carol will. All he knows is they will need each other.

Carol releases his hand as she reaches for the barn doors. He can see her hands trembling and wishes to help her but understands she must do this. The barn door creaks open and they are instantly attacked by the heavy metallic scent of blood. He flinches but Carol seems unfazed by it. He wants nothing more than to reach for her hand again but he already sees that his wife is on a mission and that there is no time to waste. They don’t have the luxury as they each hold their emotions at bay, their nails diffing in to their very soul as they try to contain them.

The first bodies they find are easily recognizable as the Highway Men. They barely had time to know each other and he laments the fact that they will never get to watch the promised movie for their precious services. “Thank you my friends.” He whispers as he kneels besides them. “Rest in peace, your watch has ended.”

The next bodies they find are that of two young ladies whose names he’s not familiar with, followed by that of an older woman who he believes is named Tammy. He kneels besides each of them, maneuvering their mortal remains with Carol’s help into a more natural position, as if their bodies hadn’t suddenly dropped and been abandoned. A woolen blanket appears in front of him leaving him confused for a second.  He’s not sure where Carol has found woolen blankets at but she covers their bodies one by one.

They arrive at a young man’s body and though his mind plays tricks on him he knows right away it’s not Henry. “He’s from Hilltop.” Carol informs him as she covers his body. “Henry briefly talked to him and Addy while I was there.”

Carol places a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes. He’s about to cover her hand with his when she lets go, moving to kneel besides the bodies of the women she considered family. “Oh.” She whispers in grief as she gently presses a trembling hand against their shoulders. It’s obvious Tara died first, her body underneath Enid’s. He lets her have a moment, lets her say her final goodbyes, before covering their bodies with the blanket.

There is only one body left.

Neither approach it.

There’s blood all around it, just like with the rest of them. Judging by the way it’s far from the rest he knows that Alpha made his son watch. The horror Henry must have felt. He had devoted his life to saving others no matter the circumstance and in his final moments he was made to watch, unable to help those around him.

He feels woozy, as if all the energy has left him. He watches as Carol takes a couple of steps forward then drops painfully to her knees. She curves her body forward, slumping as it begins to shake. He too stumbles forward, his feet feeling like lead.  

Up until this very moment, while knowing that his son has perished, he hadn’t been hit with the full range of pain and desperation. Now, he stumbles backward as he sees the end of Henry shirt’s collar drench in blood, as he sees Henry’s hand still holding to clumps of dried alfalfa with one hand, his other hand’s nails digging into the wooden floor of the barn. His feet are miss-aligned and body curled. His son fought with all his might, with everything he had to give. He tries to look away as his eyes fill with tears, soaked wood with blood in the place of where his son’s head used to be. He collides against a banister and slides down until he’s spills on the floor.

He can hear a terrible scream, a deep screech of pain accompanied by the higher toned sobs of his wife. Is he making that sound?  Carol has also held everything inside, internalizing her pain in a way only she can understand and she’s now letting it free as well. He wants to reach for her but he can’t move, he’s frozen in place.

He watches through tears as Carol takes hold of Henry’s hand, her thumb relaxing his muscles. “Henry.” She whispers his name. Her hands are already tinged red with congealed blood, as are his, but something about the way they now have Henry’s blood makes him want to turn around and vomit. He does so, just as Carol smooths down his son’s shirt, her fingers trembling as much as her voice.

“Why!” He hears her demand. “Why Henry? Why!?”

His own voice reaches his ears as he mumbles over and over “He’s gone. He’s gone.”

Their silence, when it comes, is as deafening as if they were both screaming their hearts out. They both stare away from Henry’s now covered body, both having difficulty in breathing, both wanting this to be a terrible nightmare they will soon wake up from.

When he runs to look at Carol he can see her very soul hurting. Each of her tears is a dagger to his heart. He grunts and pushes away from where he has been leaning. He crawls, as the broken man he is, towards Carol. Without thinking he tries to embrace her only to have Carol push him away. They are grieving, their broken hearts on their sleeve, and he understands it’s just a gut reaction but it still stings.

“Forgive me.” He whispers but Carol doesn’t react so he turns to look at his son once more. Dread sits in the pit of his stomach. He’s lost a son already he definitively doesn’t want to lose his wife but if space is what she needs, space is the only thing he can give.

——

They’ve buried their son silently, flanked by the whole of the community. He hears the mourning sobs, he hears the sniffles, but neither he nor Carol cry, not this time. They cried when they brought him home, cried when they made him whole again, cried when they cleaned his body for burial, cried when they were faced with his lonely room.

Siddiq, now clean and on his feet, delivers what Ezekiel already knew; Alpha took his son but Henry fought until his very last breath, for his friends, for his family, for those he didn’t know. He fought for himself.

Everything else is a blur, he doesn’t hear anything, all sounds perceived as if he was underwater. He feels as if at any moment he will disintegrate, fall into tiny little fragments of the man he once was.

The touch of cold fingers against his own jolt him out of his mind. It’s Carol, he knows her touch anywhere. Their fingers intertwine even though neither turns to look at the other.  

His heart hurts for his son and his wife.  For himself.

He’ll never get to see Henry have his first date, never get to tease him about the girl he brought home, he’ll never see him grow into a full adult, never get to see him get married or have children of his own, he’ll never get to watch him train from sunup to sundown, or talk to him about his worries and dreams.

And Carol; he can still see her leaning down to kiss Henry’s cleaned forehead, brushing his hair to the side and gently trailing her fingers down his cheek.  She’s lost a child again even when he assured her they would never lose Henry.  She had to see his reanimated head and despite Daryl’s attempts, had chosen to put Henry out of his misery.

They had given this world the best they had to give, their son, and in return fate had laughed in their faces.

The crowd breaks as the speech ends.  He holds tightly to her hand, not wanting to let her go, not wanting the growing blackness between them to take hold.  Carol tightens her hand around his, as if she too doesn’t want to lose the connection either.  

“Need to talk to ya.” The gruff voice of Daryl makes Carol instantly let go.  Her arms move around her body to hug herself.  He feels the coldness right away

“Yeah…sure.”  Carol mumbles and they move away.

His body instantly goes stiff.  He can’t help but keep a close eye on them.

He knows they are best friends, Carol has explained their relationship to him before.  He still can’t help but feel the sliver of jealousy as he sees her instantly relax.  Why does she relax around the hunter in that matter?  Why does it seem that she is willing to share with him the pain that she tries to hide from her own husband?  He can’t help but look away as Daryl embraces her.

He trusts Carol with his life and their marriage.

Perhaps what she now needs is not the shared grief of a father who’s son has been lost.  Perhaps what she now feels is the strength of a best friend to propel her to continue on living in their son’s memory.

Who is he to deny her that which she needs?

——-

 

The Kingdom has fallen.

The pipes have finally lost their fight, they are too old, too used, and the tape is not enough to hold them together any longer.  The explosion caused a fire to spread through the community, taking down some buildings and searing others.  As much as he wishes they could forever remain there, for it was the last place he ever saw his son, he knows his people deserve better and the winter that has arrived doesn’t take pity on the fact they’ve lost their home.

With the help of those around them they will take the trek to Hilltop where the communities are already gathering.  He knows this is what they have to do, that he has taken the right decision, but it doesn’t stop the pain from spreading on his chest when he thinks about it.

They lay side by side, each turned to their own end of the bed.  They barely talk about things that do not pertain to the community.  Carol has closed herself in her grief reminding him of the broken woman that had stumbled into the Knights all those years ago.  He bears the unbearable pain of losing his son and the continuous pain of his wife’s separation.

“We are doing the right thing.”  He hears Carol say from her end of the bed.

“I am aware.” He replies, his voice short and curt.

Silence falls on them once more and its only broken by the shuffling of the bedsheets as Carol rises from the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress.  He can hear her breathing and wants nothing more than to reach out for her and cocoon her in his arms to snuggle as they once did back when things were fine and their son was alive.

“Then why does it feel wrong?”  She asks in a broken voice.  “Like we are abandoning him?”

He turn to look at her and finds her slumped in defeat.  Where is his strong woman?  The woman who would light a fire in his heart with just one look?  Was she still there or was he losing her completely?

“He will always be with us.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”  Her anger still simmers underneath her skin and he’s bore the end of it more than once.  He’s ready to do so again, to be her sounding board for the pain she feels towards the world, the anger she feels towards Alpha and Lydia, the anger she feels towards herself.

“We cannot stay.  The Kingdom… our home has fallen.”  He reminds her though he knows that she’s aware of it.  “We must leave, whether we are prepared to do so or not.”

Carol stands up and turns to look at him.  The light in her eyes has been extinguished and he doesn’t know how to help her.  How can he help her when he feels exactly the same way?  
“I’m tired of leaving those I love behind.”

“Henry wouldn’t want you to leave those you love who are still alive.”  He leaves the bed and stands in front of her, not touching her, respecting her space as best as he can.  “But if that’s what you desire, if that’s what you need, I will understand.  If you need to leave with the Hunter, confide in him your pain, then I understand.”

Carol’s eyes flood with tears as she looks at him.  He can see the shaking her whole body is doing.  He knows he’s just liberated her of any responsibility she feels to him and he knows his words carry a blow that plummets into her as much as it plummets into him.  He loves her dearly, thoroughly, but he’s not going to be the one to hold her back and deny her whatever she feels she needs.  

He will not be that husband.

He raises a hand to cup her chin but stops himself before even she can react.  He pulls his hand back, letting it fall into a loose fist. 

He leaves before she can say another word.

———-

 

His world fully crumbles when he turns to look over his shoulder and finds her holding on to Daryl.  The sight is not something new but it’s something that still pains him greatly.  

Perhaps he wasn’t a good husband, perhaps he wasn’t a good father and that’s why he’s being punished.  Either way all he can do is watch as Carol bonds further with Daryl, all he can do is hear her cry at night as she unloads her pain for only Daryl to see, all he can do is love her from far away if that’s all she wants.

All he can do is keep a secret what he knows to be true, what Lydia told him; that she met Henry at Hilltop’s jail, that they talked whenever Daryl wasn’t around, that Henry helped calm her when Daryl had been rough, had defended her, that Henry had come in one day, after being pulled from the jail by the hunter, to tell her that what Daryl had done, how he had used his son.   Lydia told him how Daryl had traded her for the Hilltop members and how Henry, now having formed a bond with her, had followed them, had found Beta and ultimately her mother.  

His son had always made him proud, but as Lydia told him the length’s he’d gone through in order to help her, Ezekiel felt pride to be called Henry’s father.

He kept quiet though, even when the anger threatened to overcome him, when he wanted to plummet Daryl’s face with his fists and tell his wife all he knew.  It hurt, it hurt like nothing before, but he knows that what Lydia had told him were things his wife is unaware of, things he cannot tell her for he knows that it will break her heart and tear down her last source of strength.

All he can do is be there for her when, if she comes back.

——

Winter brings snow, fluffy snow that makes everything look like a fairy tale.  Once upon a time he would have remarked on the beauty, would have embraced his wife and kissed her senseless, would have showed his son how to have a proper snowball war.  Now all he feels is cold and emptiness.

He keeps a close eye on Carol.  She’s always been prone to being cold.  Henry used to tease her how about how cold her feet when they were all snuggled up in front of the fire.  Of course, back then he’d been smaller, merely a child pretending to be a warrior.  Now he was a warrior without life.

The first chance he got he found a thick coat for her, thermals to put under her jeans, a hat, gloves and a warm scarf.  She looks beautiful all layered up, with snow falling on her lashes and shoulders.  He wants to tell her that but he knows it will only make her mad.

“Shit!” He hears her exclaim from behind.  He turns quickly, his dreads hitting his back with the force.  She’s slipped, her feet falling deep in the snow.   She struggles to get out of the depth.

“Are you well?” He asks, extending a hand for her to take.

“I don’t need help.”  She mumbles.  Her cheeks are so red and so is the tip of her nose.  He keeps his hand extended, still offering to help her.  Carol tries again but stumbles and ends up slamming into him.  “Shit!” She repeats.

“I got you.”  He promises.  He’s also standing on snow but he has a sure footing and less depth between him and the cold ground.

He doesn’t release her hand until he knows that she’s found her balance.  Carol brushes away the snow from her jeans.  He needs to find her better pants.  “Are you well?” He repeats.

Carol raises her chin so that she can look at him.  Her eyes are so blue he instantly loses himself in them.  He has to shake his head to snap out of his stupor.   She winces but nods.

“Talk to me, my lo… Carol.”  He begs her.  It takes a lot in him to keep his voice from breaking.  “Please talk to me.”  
Her brows furrow and her eyes darken.  “I’m fine.”  She says as she rearranges her coat and her sliver.  “Nothing broken.”

That’s not what he meant and she knows it.  

He tries once again, just because he refuses to let go of her, let go of their love.  They’ve been married for well over six years, he loves her and he knows she loves him, somewhere deep inside her pain.  “Please… I miss you.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m right here.” She replies, her hands stopping the sweeping motions on her arms.  

It stings to hear her say that when he knows its not true.  Sure her body is there but her mind is somewhere in Kingdom, somewhere in the woods enacting revenge on Alpha and Beta.  

“If you say so.”  He whispers as he turns, completely defeated.  

He’s lost her.  

He knows it now.  Sure, she is near him, keeping an eye on him just as he keeps an eye on her, but her demeanor is as icy as the ground beneath his boots, as icy as the feeling that rises up his legs, through his stomach and straight to his heart.  

Now all he can hope for is one of her smiles once in a while, a look thrown his way, like scraps of life to a death man walking.

 

_____

 

He doesn’t know what she and Lydia talked about when Carol went after her but whatever it was deeply affected her.  She’s quiet, teary, and though she still sends looks towards the young woman they aren’t as harsh as before.

He can only pray that Lydia didn’t tell her about how she had met Henry or about how Daryl and many from Hilltop had used his son to get information from the enemy.

They bed down in an abandoned home.  

Winter has swept through the land and the coldness compounds their bitter feelings.  It’s been a hard walk, a hard travel, but his people are safe from the elements for the night.  Carol is safe.  He works in building a fire with the hopes that she will make her way to it, warm herself up.  He knows her fingers will be cold as ice; he’s warm them before between his much thicker ones, breathing into her digits until she smirks at him and closes the distance between them, pressing a kiss to his lips.

After they’ve settled on a watch rotation he busies himself in making his bed while Carol takes watch.  For a moment she wonders if he should try once more to reconnect with her but stops himself before he allows his hope to flourish.  He needs to understand their marriage is over, the death of their child tearing them so much they can’t seem to reach out for one another anymore.

When her watch is over she wakes him up.  She stares at him as he brushes the sleep out of his eyes, as if she wants to say something and he finds himself begging for her to do so.  When she says nothing, despite still staring at him, he deflates yet again.  “Thank you for helping me rise.” He whispers before moving around her.

“Ezekiel?” She whispers but to him it sounds like a scream.  

He stops on his track, turning his head so that he can look at her from the corner of his eye.  “Yes, milady?”

Carol remains quiet, simply breathing.  He knows she’s trying to find the correct words and he waits with bathed breath for her to speak.  Whatever she wanted to say is gone in seconds.  “Have a good watch.”

The night is calm.  He sees nothing but darkness and snow falling. He tries to keep his mind clear but it hates him and loves to re-live every moment he’s ever lived from the moment he stumbled into Benjamin, his father and Henry to the very moment he’s just lived.

When his watch ends he wakes Michonne and makes his way to the bedding he’d been resting on.

He’s surprised when he finds Carol laying on the makeshift nest.  She hardly sleeps nowadays and when she does she prefers to bed a couple of yards away from him.  Now she’s there and she’s turned towards the side he would normally be occupying.  Should he join her or leave her be?

He feels his body shiver from both cold and exhaustion.  He needs to sleep even if he doesn’t want to disturb her.  It is his bedding after all.

He makes his way towards her, trying to ignore her form on the bed.  He sits on the floor then lays on his back, his face towards the wooden ceiling.  He keeps his arms close to himself to not disrupt her space.  He doesn’t know if she is awake or asleep, doesn’t dare to turn and check in case she’s not and tells him to go away.  He remains quiet, his body stiff and cold.

“I’m sorry.”  He hears her whisper.  She sounds like a little mouse, nothing like the woman he fell in love with, nothing like the phoenix who’s rebirth he witnessed.

He closes his eyes.  Even as soft as her voice is, it smooths over him like a salve, easing the burn in his very soul.  “Don’t be.  I understand.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to explain.” He quickly interrupts her.  “I know how you feel, I know how lost your soul is and how you’ve found strength in the hunter.  I don’t begrudge you that.  Our son is gone and nothing teeters you to me anymore.  I only ask forgiveness from you, if you so find it in your heart.”

“Forgiveness?”

“For failing you.”  He explains. “For forcing you into a community and into a marriage you didn’t want to be a part of, for forcing you to love Henry and to watch over him, for keeping you from your family for the past years.”

He’s met with silence and his heart sinks and dies in his chest, metaphorically at least.  She doesn’t deny what his brain has come up with during all those times he’s made to be alone, has grieved, has observed her confide in someone else.

“For failing Henry.” He continues, not wanting the silence to stretch even further between them, knowing very well this might be the last time he gets to talk to her so uncannily.  “For not keeping him safe when you left him with me, for being a dreamer and instilling that in him, for arming him with nothing but a stick, dreams and a flourishing word, for giving him a fake fami…”

“You didn’t fail Henry.”  She interrupts him.  She incorporates herself enough to prompt her head on her hand, her elbow against the material he’s bunched together to keep the hardness and coldness off the floor out of his bed.  “And if you did then we all did.”

“You didn’t.”  He says, finally turning to look at her.  He finds a maelstrom in her eyes, the kind he hadn’t seen in a very long time.  “You were the only one who tried to teach him how to live in this world.”

She shares her head, her eyes slipping close which only gathers her tears on the base of her eyelashes.  “There’s no use in throwing blame anymore.  He’s gone.”

“He is.”  He agrees, once again turning up to look at the ceiling.  “He’s gone.  You are gone.  I have no idea why I am still here.”

“I’m not gone.” She insists.  “I’m here, and I’m real.”

“Are you?”  He asks, turning to look at her, his whole body turning with his head.  He doesn’t like raise in his volume, chastises himself for it, but Carol doesn’t flinch.  She knows he will never raise a hand at her, she knows he’d rather takes his own life that hurt her at all.  

“I’m sorry.” She repeats even softer.  “I know I’ve…”. She pauses as if it costs her everything within her to say the next words.  “…been absent.”

“You’ve done what you’ve needed to do.  I understand.”

“I love you.”  She says suddenly.  The words surprise him as much as it seems to surprise her.  “i know I never said it enough, I should have, but its true; I love you.”

The first tear falls from his eye.  The feeling created by the droplet of salty water almost foreign agains this dark skin.  He thought he had cried all he needed to cry but he was apparently wrong.

“You don’t have to lie anymore Carol.  I won’t… I won’t force you into the fairytale.  Not anymore, you are free. You can go, really go and I won’t stop you.”

She stares at him with an expression of confusion and terror. A glimmer of hope lights in his chest but he’s quick to quench it away.  He needs to remain steadfast, needs to continue to give her her freedom.  He knows her and he knows that she will stay if it means he will be happy.  She always gives and gives and never takes for herself.

“I’m not lying.” She insists as twin tears fall from her eyes.  “I have never lied.  I love you.  I love Henry.  I love our family and I’m so sorry that I’ve abandoned you, that I’ve made you believe the past years have been a lie.  I would give… I would give everything for us to be back at Kingdom, safe, together.”

“Carol…”  
“No!”  She interrupts in harsh whisper.  Behind them one o Jerry’s children whimpers in their sleep and moves around but doesn’t wake.  “I’ve listen and now it your turn.  I love you.  I love you Ezekiel.  I don’t know why you think… why youa re so sure that I don’t, but its not true.  I love you.  I have always loved you.  We formed a family; you, Henry and I.  I’m not with you because I wanted to take care of Henry, I didn’t marry you because of a sense of duty.  I married you because I love you.  I became Henry’s mother because I loved him.  I became The Kingdom’s Queen because I love our people.”

“Then why have you left us?”   He whispers, his eyes misting so throughly with his tears that he can’t help but blink and let them fall.  “Why do you behave like being besides us nauseates you?  Why do you ignore Jerry’s children yet connect with Judith and RJ?  Why do you refuse to talk to me? To let me help you?”  He stops, taking a deep breath, trying to look everywhere but into her eyes.  “Why do you favor the man who abandoned you again and again and used our child over those that have loved you so completely?”

The very breath leaves Carol’s lungs and he gets to hear it.  Everything falls silent around them except for her shaky attempts at breathing.  He knows he’s gone too far, wishes he could take it back, could take it all back and never left his post, never joined her on his bedding.

“Because I don’t want you to see the monster I’m becoming.”  She finally stammers.  “I don’t want you to hate what I’ve become.”

That throws him for a loop.  He doesn’t know how to reply to her so he stares at her as if her face could tell him everything he needs to know.  It once could, after all.

“I hate… hate… Alpha.  I want nothing more than to go back, cross her stupid borders and take her head like she took our son’s.  I see Lydia and see nothing but the reason why our son isn’t here anymore.  I hear her crying and I want to shake her and tell her she has no right to cry for our son when she’s the reason he’s gone.  I want to rage and scream and burn everything in my path and I know… I know… that’s not who you are, who Jerry and his family is, who Diane or our Knights are, who our people are.”

“And you think I don’t know what your rage is capable of?”  He asks her.  “You think I haven’t seen you in battle? That I haven’t witnessed the mother instinct that fuels you so thoroughly?  That I don’t want to join you in claiming Alpha’s head?  That I don’t love that side of you as much as I love every other little piece?”

She shakes her head, lowering it until it makes contact with the blankets where she buries it.  Her shoulders start shaking right away.  He can hear her sobs as they are muffled, as she tries to contain them.  He’s reaching for her before he can stop himself, wrapping his arms around her even as she stiffles against him. His mind tells him to let go, to release her as he’s done every single time, but he remains and is rewarded with her body relaxing against him, her face buried against his chest.  

Perhaps he hasn’t lost everything he’s ever held dear.  

“I love you Carol.  I always will, that still holds true.”  He reminds her.  “I am lost without you.  You fell through my fingers even when I tried to hold on tightly and when I saw that… that you favored Daryl’s companionship and warmth more with each passing day I convinced myself it didn’t hurt, or at least that’s what I told myself. What I say still stands; I love you like I’ll never love another, you are Henry’s mother and always will be, but if what you need is Daryl then, as hard as it will be, I’m ready to let you go.”

“No.” She mumbles against his chest.  He feels as she takes hold of his coat, as she pulls him to her as tightly as she can.  “No.”

“Then tell me what it is that you need me to do to help you.”

She sobs harder and in turn he holds her tighter against him.  “I want him back.”  She cries.  “ I want our son back. I want our home back.  I want us back.”

It breaks his heart that he cannot give to her what she most wants; their son and their home, but he’ll be damned if she thinks that she can’t have them back.  He gently pushes her back and Carol struggles to keep him close.  With an insisting touch he manages to part them enough so that he can tilt her head back and look into her eyes. 

 “Look at me Carol, look at me my love.”  He whispers and waits for her to open her bloodshot eyes.  The maelstrom is still within her blue irises, but now he can see something else, something his soul and heart recognizes.  “I can’t bring our son back, I can’t, but I am here, as lost as you are, and if this is what you want I promise I will never leave your side.”

Carol sniffles and quickly brushes away her tears with her thumbs, still not letting go off her hold on his coat.  She gives a tiny nod before she pushes herself and presses her lips against his.  This is the first kiss they’ve shared in a very long time and he relishes in the feeling of her lips slightly chapped by the cold as they press against his.

 

“It’s what I want.”  She promises.  They lips brush against each other as she speaks. 

He feels his heart beating strong against his chest.  Had it always been beating or had it stopped when she moved away from him?  

“Hold me.” She begs him and he pulls her close to him again.  “I feel like I’m falling apart and I need you to hold me, to anchor me, to remind me I’m real.”

So he holds her, he holds her as her sobs continue and eventually turn into tiny hiccups he feels against his chest.  He holds her until her body relaxes and gains warmth.  Holds her until her breathing has returned to a semblance of normal.

WIth her in his arms he feels at home, like he used to when they were at Kingdom and he knew their son was safe in his bed at the end of the corridor.  He knows that she is his home now and that he will do everything in his power to never fail her again.

He can feel someone staring at him which jolts him out of the bubble Carol and his conversation has created and quickly sweeps through the sleeping bodies until he makes contact with two watchful eyes.  It’s the hunter.

He fears even bringing him up, afraid to damage the thin veil they’ve used to patch up their grief, but he knows everything must stay in the open for them to work. 

“And Daryl? Your hunter?” He whispers, unable to keep the told of his chin towards the man.

Carol pulls back and searches for his eyes. He in turn holds Daryl’s gaze until the archer gives them his back.

“He’s my best friend, he understands my anger,” she explains. “He’s seen me through my worst and never judged.” Theres a pause in her words, a pause that threatens to break his fragile heart and leave it in a pile of unrepeatable pieces. “But he’s only that. He carries a guilt within him that I don’t understand but that I know has to do with Henry. I... I need to understand it. He’s the only one that can explain.”

He knows he can tell her everything right there and then, but to do so would break a pillar of strength that Carol holds on to dearly. Now more than ever he wants the hunter as far away from them as he can be, but he’s willing to quiet that instinct for her sake. 

“You are the only man I love.” She promises and kisses his chin sweetly. “The father of my son, the man who adopted my little girl to give her a better father.”

He can’t help but pull her close again though this time it is Carol that guides him to her chest. Her fingers thread instantly though his dreads until she reaches his scalp where she gently massages just like she knows he likes 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers to him. “In all my grief I... have been nothing but selfish. You lost Henry too and I left you behind.”

Again his eyes burn with the promise of salty tears and he clenches them as tight as he can to prevent them from falling. His body must have tensed as well for she feels her hand move from his head to his back. “Don’t do that... don’t hide your pain. You’ve let me show mine the way I needed to, now show me yours.”

And he does, he cries against her chest all night and well into the morning. He cries for their broken souls and their lost child, for the future Henry will never get to live, for all the what if’s that could have happened. He cries for his wife, he cries for himself. He cries until his body is exhausted and he finds sleep in her arms.

They are still broken.

Just like the walls in their bedroom back at Kingdom. Just like the pipes that burst and spilled and caused havoc and threw them from their home.

Henry is still gone but not entirely for he will always live in his parents memory.

They are still wrapped in a clock of grief, but perhaps for the first time they are wrapped together, letting each other scream and rage and always there to sooth the other when they feel empty.

He’s still lost, and so is she, but that doesn’t mean they can’t find each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> My brain is mean and made me write this. I just hope it helps someone out there, in their grieving process.
> 
> Henry, Carol and Ezekiel deserved better.


End file.
